


watch you work the room

by starglide



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Barebacking, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 16:59:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starglide/pseuds/starglide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dude, dude, no, you've got the ladies hanging off every word you say now," Joe says, grinning.</p><p>Patrick's face is a little pink, and it takes a lot out of Pete to keep from teasing him about it. "I'm not - shut up, Joe." </p><p>"Come on. Embrace it. You're a regular Pete Wentz now."</p><p>Pete shoots him a dirty look.</p>
            </blockquote>





	watch you work the room

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in the near future during the Save Rock & Roll tour.  
> I love Pete's girlfriend and Patrick's wife, but for the purposes of this fic, they don't exist.  
> If you found this by googling yourself, _please leave now oh my god._ That means you, Pete.

Pete's happy for Patrick. Really. Although, to be honest, Patrick probably doesn't notice and certainly doesn't care if he does. But still, it's great that the world at large is finally appreciating Patrick's looks the way Pete always has.

He's ecstatic. Well. Maybe not exactly.

But not for the reason people might think. He's sure that if the media knew, there'd be sources saying, "Oh yeah, Pete totally pissed that he isn't Fall Out Boy's token heartthrob anymore." But it's not about that. It really, really, isn't.

He almost wishes it were.

"Patrick! Patrick, over here!"

"Patrick, I love you!"

"Patrick, will you sign my tits?"

Patrick smiles kindly at them all.

Pete tries his best not to glare at his fans, he really does.  


\---

"What a great crowd tonight," Andy says when they get back on the bus.

"Yeah, they were crazy," Patrick laughs.

Pete just flops down on the couch face-first.

"All right, I'll bite," Joe says, sitting on the arm of the sofa and nudging him with his foot. "What's your problem, dude?" 

"Mmmph," Pete replies helpfully.

Patrick stops to ruffle Pete's hair on his way to get a water bottle from the kitchenette, and Pete feels a little bit better.  


\---

It's not like Patrick didn't have fangirls (and boys) before the hiatus, because he definitely did. He's sweet and awesome and talented and funny and just an all-around great human being. So of course he'd have a dedicated fanbase. 

But there were new fans too, fans that only started liking Patrick after he lost the weight, and it makes Pete quietly simmer with anger. Which is a normal reaction from a best friend, okay. That's just not cool; he's sure it bothers plenty of people besides him.

But the other part, the part he tries to avoid thinking about (unsuccessfully) is that it makes him angry for other reasons too. Reasons like, _don't touch him stop talking about him like that he's mine mine mineminemine._

But if Pete doesn't talk about it out loud, it doesn't really exist, and he can keep on burying his possessiveness and bitterness and no one will ever know.  


\---

Until one day, they do.

"Dude, dude, no, you've got the ladies hanging off every word you say now," Joe says, grinning.

Patrick's face is a little pink, and it takes a lot out of Pete to keep from teasing him about it. "I'm not - shut up, Joe." 

"Come on. Embrace it. You're a regular Pete Wentz now."

Pete shoots him a dirty look.

Patrick shrugs and laughs a little. "Yeah, well, they're probably blind."

"Stop that," Pete says, his voice louder than he intended. Andy looks up from his worn and dog-eared copy of _1984_ , an eyebrow raised. "Quit - quit putting yourself down like that. You're like, perfect, so cut it out."

The room is uncomfortably silent for a minute, and Patrick's blushing even more and not looking at him. Then Joe giggles and says, "Seriously though, man, go out take advantage of that. It's a hotel night, you're telling me you don't wanna get laid?"

"Dude," Pete starts to say, too loudly again, and god, why can't he _just shut up_ , "you should be careful, because. I mean, you don't want to take home some chick that only likes you now that you're, you know. You shouldn't put up with that, you don't deserve -" He clamps his mouth shut before he can say anything else.

Patrick's eyes are wide. "I'll. I'll keep that in mind. I mean, if, uh."

"He's getting laid, not married," Joe says, his voice quivering with suppressed laughter.  


Andy puts down his book entirely and shoots Pete a significant look. Pete knows what that means. He dreads the near future.

\---

Sure enough, as soon as Andy can catch Pete alone in his bunk, he sits down across from him and says, "So."

Pete waits.

Andy remains stoic.

"...So?"

"I think you know."

"I think I don't," Pete says petulantly, even though he kind of does.

"Maybe you should talk to him about it instead of moping all by yourself in your bunk."

"Talk to who about what?"

Andy levels him with a frown. "Wentz, stop making this difficult or I'm going to punch you in the throat."

"You will _not_."

Andy just looks at him. _He probably will_ , Pete thinks realistically.

Pete sighs. "Yeah, okay, whatever. I'm not gonna talk to him about it. I haven't talked to him about it for the past, like, eight years, and I plan on carrying on the tradition."

"Or, you could, I don't know, solve your problems like an adult and tell him how you feel."

Pete scrunches up his nose. "How I _feel_."

"Yes, how you feel. Usually you have no problem with that. In fact, you're kind of prone to oversharing."

"This is different and you know it. It's Patrick. I'm not gonna fuck this up." _Not like I've fucked up every relationship I've ever had_ , he doesn't say. Andy seems to understand, though. He's always been good at that. He pats Pete's knee.

"Okay, whatever, I tried. If you ever decide to get your head out of your ass, I give you two my blessing," he says solemnly.

"Thanks, asshole," Pete says, grinning despite himself.

"Anytime, dickhead."

\---

It turns out Patrick doesn't bring a girl back to the hotel after the show that night. Pete isn't surprised. What does surprise him is Patrick knocking at his door a little past midnight.

"Hey?" he says, confused. "What's up? Is there something wrong?"

Patrick shuffles nervously, looking a little bereft without his hat and glasses. "No, nothing's wrong."

After a long pause, Pete realizes Patrick doesn't plan on saying anything else. "...Okay. Do you want to come in?" 

Patrick shrugs, then nods. 

Pete closes the door behind him and goes to sit on the bed. He pats the space beside him, gesturing for Patrick to sit beside him. "Okay, seriously. What is it?"

Patrick does, twisting his hands together. "Well, Andy told me I needed to talk to you."

Pete groans internally. That meddling fucker. "Yeah? What about?" he replies innocently.

Patrick gives him a _look_ , and Pete suddenly wants to hide under the bed. "He didn't say. But I think I can guess."

"Oh," Pete says.

"Yeah," Patrick cuts to the chase. "Um. This is - this is going to be really awkward if I'm wrong, but. You like me, don't you?" He winces a little, embarassed. "That was so middle school, wow."

Pete doesn't know what to say. He really wishes he was anywhere but here right now, with his palms sweating and his heart pounding like he's just run a marathon. So he does the only thing he can think of. He tells the truth. "No."

Patrick's expression falls, but just a little, like he's trying not to show it.

And well, Pete realizes he's about to be disgustingly cheesy, but he's pretty much always been a hopeless romantic and that's not gonna change anytime soon. "I don't like you. I love you." 

Patrick's mouth opens and shuts a few times, which would be funny except Pete's about to jump out of his skin from how anxious he is. And then Patrick smiles this little adorable Patrick smile and says, "Oh. Good. Because I kind of - I feel the same way, so." 

And this would be the moment where they kiss and everything is perfect and they live happily ever after. Except. It's even worse now that he knows for sure that Patrick loves him too, because now he'll always think _if only_ but he just - he just can't.  


Pete covers Patrick's hand with his own to try and lessen the blow that's coming, but he really doesn't think it's gonna help. 

"Patrick, listen. I'm sorry, I really - you don't even know how sorry I am. Because I wish I didn't make this so complicated and I wish I wasn't so fucked up. But I really, really can't be with you, no matter how much I want to." 

He takes a deep breath, because he doesn't want to say this. He wishes he was as selfish as people think he is. "I can't. I don't want to sound cliche, but it's true. I ruin every single relationship I touch. Don't say I don't, because you know I do. I don't stay friends with my exes because everything ends in flames, with us hating each other. And I can't do that with you. You're my best friend. It's not just about the band, even though that's part of it. It's about you. I can't lose you. So. I'm sorry," he finishes lamely.

" _Pete._ " Patrick says, and his voice is so warm and inviting and Pete just wants to curl up in it and stay there forever. "I know you don't have the best track record with relationships. But dude. Haven't we pretty much been dating for years? I mean, minus the kissing and sex. And actually, not even minus the kissing sometimes."

"But -"

"No, listen to me. We've lasted this long. I've seen you when you're angry, when you're distant, when you're manic, when you haven't showered in a week. I really don't think anything can make me change my mind about you, okay?" He laces their fingers together. "Look. I love you. You love me. And in some circumstances, that's not enough. But it's always been enough for us. So please, just. Stop worrying about the bad things that could happen and think about the good things that could."

Pete doesn't know how to argue with that. He's never had the strongest willpower in the world, and especially not against Patrick, and when he says things in that voice of his, he just wants so badly to believe him. So he does.

Pete's kissed Patrick before, quote-unquote platonically. He's kissed his neck and his cheek during shows and his mouth after shows, but they never talk or make a big deal about it. But this. This is a Big Deal. This is Patrick's gorgeous mouth on his mouth, and Patrick's hands in his hair, and Patrick's face in his hands, and it's one of the best feelings ever, because this is _Patrick_. It's running through his head like a broken record. _This is Patrick. This is Patrick. This is Patrick._

It's the easiest thing in the world to cover Patrick's body with his own and lower them down onto the bed. He can barely remember why he was making this so complicated, because the slide of his tongue against Patrick's is so simple, so natural; he feels like he was born to do this, which is silly, but true.

He kisses his way down to Patrick's neck, familiar and unfamilar at the same time, and he wants.

"Patrick, can I - can we -"

"Yeah, yes, please," he says breathlessly.

Pete's t-shirt is easy enough to pull off, but he fumbles with Patrick's button-down, his fingers already shaking from nervousness. After a minute of struggling, Patrick grabs his hands and says, smiling, "What are you so nervous for? It's just me."

The thing is, though, there is no _just_ about Patrick. Pete wants to do this right so badly, and he tells him so. But Patrick just says, "I know you do," and kisses him again, and Pete isn't as afraid anymore. 

When he finally does get Patrick's shirt off, and his pants, he sits back to just look at him, because he's never really let him before.

"Can we skip this part?" Patrick says, laughing a little to try and sound flippant. But Pete knows how he looks at himself, and he wants to write Patrick a full length novel detailing everything about him that Pete finds attractive. 

Instead, he just says, like he's said so many times before, "You're perfect." Patrick blushes rather predictably, and Pete pecks him on the forehead before he can stop himself.

"Okay, so. How do you. How do you want this to go down?" Pete asks, and then tries and fails not to giggle immaturely, because _go down_. "Like, what are you comfortable with?"

"I want you to fuck me." Patrick says evenly, and Pete sucks in a breath. _Jesus_. 

"Wow, yes, absolutely," Pete says, pressing a firm hand against his cock through his boxers, which he then shucks off. He was already half-hard, but now he's practically _aching_. "I'll let you know, though, I haven't done this with a dude in a long time. Like, since Mikey." 

Patrick scowls briefly at the mention of Mikey and Pete's obviously a goner, because he just thinks it's kind of adorable. "Yeah, well, I haven't done this with a dude ever, so." 

Pete's brain screeches to an abrupt halt. "Wait. _Never?"_

"Why are you so surprised? You know I don't really sleep around when I'm not in a relationship, and when have I ever dated a guy?" 

This really probably shouldn't turn Pete on as much as it does, but he can't help it because he's gonna be the first one inside Patrick _ever_ and that makes him feel so many ways at once that he just doesn't even know what to say, except, "I'm gonna make this so good for you, I promise, I promise," and then he's reaching for the condoms and lube and in the nightstand drawer and slicking his fingers up. 

The first press of his finger into Patrick is so surreal. He still can't fucking believe he's _here_ , they're finally doing this, this is _happening._ Patrick's tight and warm and unbelievable, and Pete can't take his eyes away from his face where he's biting his full lower lip and squeezing his eyes shut. 

"How are you doing?" Pete asks. 

Patrick nods vehemently. "It's good. It's really good. I've - I've done this to myself before. I know this part." 

Pete's eyes darken and he adds another finger. "Did you think of me when you did it? Did you imagine my fingers in you?" 

Patrick's breath hitches, and he wraps a hand around his cock, not trying to get off, just trying to relieve the ache. "Yeah," he groans. "Yeah, I thought about you." 

"Good. That's good. Because I only ever want you to think about me," he says roughly, twisting three fingers inside Patrick. 

"I do, I only think about you, I -" He cuts himself off with a moan. 

"Okay. Okay." Pete says, sliding his fingers out and grabbing a condom. 

"Wait, wait, Pete," Patrick says, alert again. 

"Yeah? Do you want to stop? We can stop." Pete really doesn't want to stop. 

"No!" he exclaims, laughing. "It's just - are you clean? 

"Yeah, gonorrhea-free for over a year now," Pete replies, grinning. 

"Sexy," Patrick deadpans. "Well, if you're clean and I'm clean, then can we, like...not use a condom?" 

Pete's brain is seriously like _this close_ to exploding from all of Patrick's unintentional hotness. "Is that even a question?" he groans, and slicks himself up. And then stops. Because. He's about to fuck Patrick. He takes a long moment to commit this moment to memory. This is gonna be jerk-off material _forever._

"Pete. Seriously." Patrick says grumpily. Pete snaps out of it. He hikes Patrick's legs around his waist, grabs the base of his cock, and slides in. 

He can't even breathe for a good moment, because Patrick is so goddamn tight and hot and perfect and he has to consciously loosen his deathgrip on Patrick's hips (even if he doesn't want to, even if he wants to mark Patrick up and make him his). 

And Patrick's _face._ He's flushed and his mouth is swollen and he's got this completely overwhelmed expression, like he can't even process everything that's happening. 

"You okay?" Pete asks, voice cracking a little. 

Patrick just gives these little hitches of breath at first, and then, "Yeah. Just, really full. In the best way possible." Pete can't even deal with the way his voice already sounds so beautifully wrecked and they've barely even started. 

He takes that as a go-ahead and starts thrusting, slowly at first. But Patrick immediately starts pushing back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust, wrapping his legs tighter around his waist and Pete just - lets go. 

Patrick's not a screamer, but he's not exactly quiet, either, and it's just serving to make Pete more desperate and he's really not sure how long he's gonna last, here. His hips are working fast now, so fast that he's starting to get a little sore, slapping against Patrick's thighs. 

Somewhere along the way, Patrick starts in with a litany of, "Pete, please, just, please, please, _Pete_ ," jerking his cock in time with his words. 

Pete switches angles slightly and Patrick just fucking comes all over himself, letting out a high-pitched moan and tightening around him and Pete just can't take it anymore. He makes it a few more thrusts and then comes inside Patrick, collapsing on top of him.  


They just breathe for a little bit, and then Patrick says, "Get off me, you're heavy for such a little guy." 

Pete rolls off him. "I think you just found out that I'm not a 'little guy,' if you know what I mean," He replies, leering. 

"Oh my god, why am I even in love with you?" 

"Because I'm gonna get a washcloth and clean us up and then I'm gonna snuggle you?"  


"I always knew you'd be a cuddler." Patrick says, smiling, and Pete's heart feels three times too big for his chest. 

\---

The next morning when they get back on the bus, Andy smiles at them knowingly, and Joe says loudly, "I guess Patrick did end up getting laid last night!" and Patrick turns bright red and walks away swiftly to hide in the bathroom. 

And the truth is, there is no place Pete would rather be than here. 


End file.
